For the Love of a Rose
by Summer Leigh Wind
Summary: Rose might be gone, but Hugo sure wasn't. Scorpius might not know how to deal with that. One-Shot.


**_For the Love of a Rose_**

* * *

When Scorpius came into the townhouse he and Rose shared after a day out with his friends, the quietness of it didn't feel right to him. He and Rose weren't noisy people - unlike most of her family, which was loud and gregarious, but they weren't _silent._ No, usually, Rose had the wireless on if she was alone because as she'd told him many times over the years, " _I don't like it too quiet, I start feeling lonely like that._ "

Frowning, he'd walked away from their living room's hearth and into the kitchen. What he found shook his very world. His wife, Rose, was laying face down on the white linoleum floor, a shattered glass beside her and a puddle of blood congealing around her head. It was strange, but Scorpius's first thought wasn't for her, but for himself.

 _I'm_ _going to be blamed for this._

Sometimes (no matter how much he loved them) Scorpius wished he wasn't Draco and Astoria Malfoy's son. There had been letters, after he and Rose announced their engagement, from strangers, acquaintances, and even Rose's _family_ , that proclaimed their distaste for their coming union. It didn't matter that Scorpius had been a prefect during his years at Hogwarts (and well liked for his fairness as one), actively involved in a charity for educating Muggleborn children's families about the wizarding world post-Hogwarts, or that he worked as a lowly accountant for the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry.

Thankfully, however, the open distaste had all but died away after Scorpius and Rose married. After everyone saw just how serious they were, they'd realized this was not a phase on Rose's part and that maybe, just maybe, Scorpius wasn't a Neo-Death Eater hell-bent on ruining Rose's life. Well, everyone except Rose's little brother Hugo. When Rose's parents died accidentally from carbon monoxide poisoning while vacationing at a little Muggle inn during his and Rose's sixth year, it should have helped ease some of the headache that came with marrying one of the Weasley clan.

However, Hugo had taken it upon himself to be doubly resistant to their engagement in the absence of his father (who undoubtedly would have been quite vocal about what an awful person Scorpius's father was). In fact, Scorpius can remember even now what the man - then boy - had said to him after Rose told Hugo.

 _"I don't care if you aren't your father, I don't care if you say you love her, you'll never be_ my _brother._ "

With that final thought toward his own woes, Scorpius returned his attention to Rose. The blood pooled around her was dark and congealing. Scorpius didn't know a great deal about these sort of things, but he was sure it was a very bad sign. Suddenly, Scorpius's lunch surged to the back of his throat, causing him to upchuck on the floor right in front of him. Leaving it be once he was finished, Scorpius hurried to Rose.

Dropping down to his knees, he whispered, "Rose…" Scorpius was scared to touch her. What if it made things worse? Then again… He should at least be able to tell the Aurors what was wrong with her when he called. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage (which, wasn't much; he wasn't the Gryffindor in their little family after all) and turned his wife over.

He hissed loudly at the gaping red gash that used to be his wife's throat. Putting his ear to her chest, he listened for a heartbeat, but as he'd expected at the sight of her wound, there was none.

Tears coming quickly to his eyes, Scorpius began to cry. Knowing he could waste no more time, though, the man got up despite the fact all he wanted to do was curl up and mourn. Going to the fireplace he'd just used, he grabbed some Floo powder and threw it down to make the necessary fire call.

"Hello? My wife's hurt, and not breathing; _please_ come help her! I think… I think she might be dead."

-v-v-v-v-v-

The funeral was well attended, which, Scorpius knew to expect. Rose had many aunts and uncles and cousins, many friends, and many more admirers. How could she not, after all? She was so kind, so passionate and she could make people laugh with a single remark. Rose might not have been loud or outgoing by nature, but, even so, people were drawn to something about her. Scorpius used to call her a beacon. His little walking lighthouse. His light in the darkness. Rose hadn't only been his, though, and today was proof of that.

He didn't cry as the parson spoke, some of Rose's cousins and her Aunt Ginny were doing enough of it for him and then some. Catching snippets of the eulogy, Scorpius was struck by how impersonal it sounded.

 _Good woman_

 _Good wife_

 _Good friend_

 _Good daughter_

 _Good sister_

It was, in essence, the same thing he had heard at Rose's parents funeral seven years ago. It made him more than a little queasy. Was this really the last impression everyone was going to receive about his _wife_? Scorpius almost wanted to get up right then and there to tell the parson to stop. To tell him he was not doing who Rose was justice.

She was all of those things, yes, but there was _so much more_.

There was Rose, the woman, who worked herself up into a rage just talking about Squib rights.

There was Rose, the woman, who called all cats, regardless of how ugly they were, cutie-poos.

There was Rose, the woman, who lent money to friends and acquaintances alike because she liked to help.

There was Rose, the woman, who could turn him on faster than anything with just a wink.

There was Rose, the woman, who locked herself up in their bathroom and would cry for hours after a visit with her brother.

Mouth dry and his misery at a peak, Scorpius got up from his chair and ignored how everyone stared at him as he hurried toward the room's exit. It was too much now, there were too many people, too much going unsaid and it felt wrong to sit there and just _take_ it. He needed an out, he needed to get somewhere he could be alone to properly process what had been said about his wife and consider what should be said instead.

But, most of all, Scorpius wanted to be _alone_. He wished to be someplace he could cry without judging eyes or hushed whispers debating the sincerity of his tears.

Head bowed, he tried to ignore the wave of whispers that was rising from the crowd and nearly missed the one that would change his course of action.

"Running away, are you?"

Scorpius paused.

Looking up, he saw the hard eyes of Hugo staring back at him.

Frowning, he shook his head. "No, I just need a moment," he told the younger man.

"Oh _really_?" Hugo drawled, a cruel smirk twitching at his lips. "'cause, to me, it looks like someone's guilty of what everyone's been accusing him of since the start."

Grinding his teeth, he glared at the man for a long minute. Then, just to prove Hugo wrong, he turned back around and walked back to his spot in the front row with his head held high. Sitting back down, he jerked at the touch of the woman sitting beside him.

"Are you alright, Scorpius?" Ginny asked.

He nodded stiffly and kept his head held high through the rest of the proceedings.

Scorpius was not going to give that prat lurking in the exit way any satisfaction.

-v-v-v-v-v-

About a week later, Scorpius got a call.

"We found him," the Auror said.

"Who?" Scorpius demanded.

"The man who killed your wife," the Auror replied.

"What's his name? What was he doing here?" Scorpius asked at rapid fire pace.

"Tucker Flint," the Auror answered. "He said he'd broken in and was going to rob your home when he came into the kitchen and saw Missus Malfoy. He panicked and your wife paid the price."

Swallowing back a sob, Scorpius had nodded at the Auror. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

Ending the call then, he'd gone and sat down. It was a relief. The bastard was off the streets and he wouldn't ever have the chance to ruin another person's life. It should have been a comfort to Scorpius - especially since it meant people would stop looking at him suspiciously when he left the house, but… It wasn't. Not really, anyway. He was glad for the others it saved, yet it didn't change the fact there had been one victim too many and his Rose was gone. He'd never get to hold her in his arms again and smell the sunny scent of her favorite perfume or get that tingling feeling in his toes when she smiled at him with all her teeth or break out into laughter when she did her impression of her grandmother, Molly.

No matter what happened now, Rose was still dead and buried in the small cemetery he'd been too queasy to visit alone since the day he said his final goodbyes to her. Scorpius felt guilty about not seeing Rose, of course, but graveyards were _scary_. It was ridiculous for him to think so, as a grown man, but Scorpius had never forgotten the time as a child when he'd wandered into the Malfoy family plot behind their gardens. It had been just before dinner and the sun was still fifteen minutes from setting and Scorpius, at the time, with all his nine-year-old wisdom, had reasoned he had a couple minutes to poke around. Of course, a couple turned into five, then ten and finally to fifteen where he was squinting just to make out the shape of the graves.

With it finally dark, Scorpius had ended up getting lost among the graves and his parents, who he knew now were distraught with fear and worry, were looking everywhere _but_ the Malfoy family plot. If Scorpius hadn't tripped over something and screamed bloody murder, he'd probably have been stuck wandering amongst the graves like a little ghost until sunup.

Despite knowing it really wasn't his fault he was scared to go to the graveyard, the guilt of not visiting Rose was starting to get to him. Finally, after staring at nothing for over an hour, Scorpius made the decision to suck it up and go to his wife's grave. He could do it - if only long enough to tell Rose her murderer had been found.

Putting on his robe, he flickered out of existence and reappeared in the small graveyard where they'd laid his wife down for her final sleep almost a month ago. However, Scorpius nearly lost his courage as he approached the well-decorated grave. Someone was already there, coming closer, he realized it was Hugo.

It seemed he'd beaten him here.

Coming up behind the lanky man, he greeted, "Hullo, there, Hugo."

"Hmph."

Frowning at the reply, Scorpius bent down and inspected the flowers and candles surrounding it. He furrowed his brow in confusion, nothing looked like it was wilting and even the candles were neat and tidy. Had Hugo been taking care of the grave? It was possible, Scorpius decided, but he wasn't going to ask about that now. "Did you hear yet?" he questioned Hugo.

"What? That you didn't kill my sister?" the other replied in a derisive tone.

Taking a breath and promising himself he wouldn't start a fight in front of his Rose's last resting place, Scorpius nodded. "That's right. They caught the bastard who did it."

Tucking a single sprig of purple hyacinth into the pocket meant to hold flowers on Rose's grave, Hugo declared, "That doesn't change the fact I still blame you."

"I wouldn't expect any less." Scorpius sighed as he lifted his head to look at the younger man. Studying him, Scorpius frowned at how pale Hugo was, at the puffiness of his eyes and the scruff of red that was growing unchecked on his cheeks. "Are you feeling alright?" he questioned.

"I'm fine," Hugo replied.

Hesitantly, he got up and reached out to the younger man. "You look a little…"

Slapping his hovering hand away from his face, Hugo snarled. "Fuck off, Scorpius. You're no one to me. Rose is gone, you don't have to pretend you care anymore."

Bringing the stinging hand close to his chest, Scorpius gave the man a sad look. "I don't get it. There's no lost love between us, but I have done my best to care about you - if only for Rose's sake. You're a goddamn prat, but that didn't matter to your sister. Rose was always asking the Weasleys and Potters about you. Not that they seemed to hear much from you, either. I know that she loved you and wanted to see you and talk to you, but you always ignored her until she had to come to and find you just so she could see with her own eyes that you were alive. Since I only know what happened after those visits, I imagine what you said to her during those times had to be pretty awful to make her cry like she did when she'd come home."

"She gave as good as she got," Hugo muttered defensively.

Scorpius shook his head. "Rose didn't like fighting," he reminded the younger man. "That's why I didn't come with her to see you. Remember the first couple times we tried that? She'd start crying right in front of us and beg us to stop hurting each other."

"I never hurt you!" Hugo snapped.

Tired, he took a breath. "I know you aren't this daft, Hugo. More than just fists can hurt somebody."

Face taking on an angry red hue, the younger shoved his hands in his pockets and declared, "I'm leaving!"

Watching his back as he walked away, Scorpius stayed beside his wife's grave a long time after once Hugo disapparated away.

-v-v-v-v-v-

Tucked away in his living room before a crackling fire, Scorpius stared at the two wine glasses he'd brought out on instinct with the bottle of wine. It bothered him to have an extra sitting there, but he didn't really want to put it back either. It felt like he'd be letting go of Rose if he did so. Rubbing his face, Scorpius wondered if it was worse to be reminded of his wife's absence or to feel like he was leaving her behind.

Eventually, he uncorked the bottle and filled both glasses. "Cheers, Rose," he declared as he downed his first glass and then the one that would have been for Rose.

Pouring a third glass of the chardonnay, Scorpius swung his legs up on the sofa to stretch out as he clutched his glass close to brood. Earlier, his mother and father had stopped by. They asked if he wanted help putting away Roses's things. Scorpius told them he would do it himself, but then his mother had started _insisting_.

He hadn't meant to, but Scorpius had told his mother to belt up and to fuck off. He didn't want them in his home - in his and _Rose's_ home. Even if she was gone, it would always be part hers too as far as Scorpius was concerned. Her touches would remain in the house for as long as he remembered her. The photos of her and her parents would stay on the mantle, her shoes would be left haphazard on their closet floor and the jar of Marmite Rose liked to eat when put on her toast would remain in the fridge long after it expired.

Scorpius would _not_ forget her. He wasn't going to let his little walking lighthouse disappear from his memory.

Taking a sip of his wine, he felt a tear run down his cheek. It was so hot against his cold skin it almost burned. He never used to be this cold, Scorpius mused.

 _That was because Rose always used to cuddle up beside you._

Wiping his eyes, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Rose."

The fire in his hearth changed abruptly, the familiar face of Hannah Longbottom coming to life. "Hello? Scorpius?"

"What can I do for you, Missus Longbottom?" Scorpius asked as he sat up and put down his glass of wine.

The woman gave him a worried look. "I hate to interrupt you like this, but could you come and take Hugo back to his flat? I've tried calling the Potters and they seem to be all out at the moment and he's getting disruptive."

Sighing, he ran a hair through his bangs and gave the woman a tentative smile. "Well, I'll come and see if I can't get him home. But don't be surprised if he wants to start a brawl instead. Hugo's never been afraid to make his dislike of me known."

Missus Longbottom chuckled and thanked him, "Thank you, Scorpius, you're a good lad."

"It's no trouble, it's better than wallowing in self-pity," he replied as he got up. "I'll see you in a minute, Missus Longbottom." And, then, Scorpius ended the call.

Getting up, Scorpius prepared himself by taking a big breath before grabbing a fistful of Floo powder and throwing it down as he called for his destination.

Stepping through the fireplace and into the Leaky Cauldron, he was greeted by a nervous looking Missus Longbottom. Smiling at him, she curled a lock of her graying blonde hair behind her ear and told Scorpius, "He's over there, muttering to himself."

Nodding, Scorpius said, "Thanks, we'll be gone in a minute, don't you worry, Missus Longbottom."

Heading over to where Rose's little brother was drinking himself into oblivion, he hooked an arm around his neck and declared, "Okay, Hugo, it's time we get you to bed."

"No," the man replied sullenly. "Rose 's waitin' fer me there."

Ignoring how his heart hammered at the mention of his late wife, Scorpius got him moving toward the hearth as he replied, "Well, how about we go back to your place and we can get pissed together, hm?"

Squinting his blue eyes at him, the younger man stuck his tongue out at him. "Not with _you,_ " he grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah, I should have expected that," Scorpius muttered with a roll of his eyes as he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and shouted, "Hugo Weasley's flat!"

A minute later, the two were stumbling out of Hugo's very dirty and neglected fireplace and into a coffee table.

"Ouch!" Scorpius yelped.

Laughing, Hugo plopped down on his couch and shouted, "Serves ya right, ya priss!"

"Ha, ha," he sneered as he came around to pull the lanky man back to his feet. "You aren't sleeping on your couch, Hugo. You are going to put on some jim-jams and go to _bed_."

"Don't wear jim-jams," the taller man pouted.

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. "What do you wear?"

"Nothing."

Making a face, Scorpius directed Rose's little brother toward his bedroom and stripped him out of his smoke and alcohol scented clothes. "Okay, if you want to sleep _naked_ you can take off your shorts yourself. I'm just going to take your clothes and throw them in the laundry. Is this place like Rose and mine's old flat? Is there a washer in the closet?"

"Yessshh," Hugo slurred as he flopped down on his bed, not bothering to strip any further.

Shaking his head, Scorpius didn't care enough to be quite as he left the room and walked over to the closet across from it. Opening it up, he was pleased to see that it was just like the washer he and Rose used to have. Throwing in Hugo's clothes, he set it to wash and hoped that in the morning, Hugo would think to look there and put them in the dryer.

Moving on, he made a face of disgust at the amount of beer bottles laying around and at the sight of the filled ashtrays and empty takeout containers. "Slob," he grumbled. He conjured up a trash bag and began to levitate and direct the trash into the bag. Once done with that, Scorpius vanished the bag and started to straighten things a little more personally. Righting an upturned coat rack, shoving a pair of shoes under a side table, picking up some mail off the floor.

Once satisfied he'd made the room look halfway livable again, Scorpius headed for the hearth. He paused when he saw movement from the coffee table he'd almost killed himself on earlier.

Looking at the surface, he froze at what lay atop it. There were pictures, magical, muggle, color, black and white, it didn't matter because they were all photographs of _Rose and Hugo_.

Feeling his knees go weak, Scorpius shakily moved over to sit down on the couch. Sitting there, he stared some more at the pictures. Then, he started to pick them up and actually study them.

There was one from when Hugo was born. Rose, probably two, was seated in her father's lap with her brother in her arms. The grin the little girl was wearing was so proud and she kept shaking like she was laughing before she'd lean down to plant a kiss on the frowning face of her baby brother.

Another showed a slightly older Rose waddling around with her slightly too big for her brother in her arms. In the picture, every once in a while she'd pause to look at who was taking the picture and make a face before going back to showing her brother things that were strewn about the room they were in.

In the picture beside that were a Rose and Hugo who were several years older. If he had to hazard, Scorpius would put them at about eight and six. Rose had her arm slung around her brother's shoulder and they were eating ice cream. But, suddenly, Hugo's would fall and his face would flicker with distress for all of a moment before Rose was shoving hers in his face – causing the child to grin.

Scorpius found himself liking that one best out of all the pictures. Hugo probably didn't realize it, but his sister's eyes had always been on him. Rose had _adored_ Hugo, even before their parents had died, he'd been more loved by her than anyone else. It made Scorpius wonder, who was fighting the man now? Who was fighting the good fight to get into his little world and show him he was loved?

It certainly wasn't Scorpius. Were the Potters checking in on him regularly? He knew, before Hugo's parents had died in his fourth year, Hugo had been quite close with Lily. But once he'd spelled her to lose her hair in the aftermaths of their deaths, Lily had begun to avoid him. As for Lily's brothers, they'd been more than a little pissed off with their cousin for humiliating their little sister (no matter his reason).

He knew Ginny made sure to send him an invitation to dinner on Sundays weekly – she did it for all of them – but Hugo had rarely ever accepted them before and now, Scorpius himself was skipping most of the dinners too. As for Harry, he was sure the man had tried to come by several times. He'd done that for him, at least, but Harry also had been quite uncomfortable trying talk to Scorpius when he'd stopped by. When Scorpius had told his surrogate uncle he just needed some time alone, Harry had backed off and had not come back to his and Rose's home since.

Scorpius would bet his entire inheritance on Hugo having done the same - probably even less politely than he had.

So, again, Scorpius had to wonder:

 _W_ _ho's telling Hugo he's loved?_

The answer weighed heavy on him, but Scorpius didn't feel up to trying to break through the prickly shell Hugo had built up around himself over the years. If Rose hadn't managed to do more than crack it in the past seven, what chance did he have?

 _None_ , Scorpius told himself. It felt a bit like a lie and even more so like he was failing Rose, but Hugo wasn't his problem. The bloke had even said that Scorpius didn't have to pretend to care about him anymore.

If that wasn't a dismissal, Scorpius didn't know what was.

Even so, though, he took the picture of Rose and Hugo eating ice cream home and hung onto it all the while as he worked on finishing off the bottle of wine he'd opened earlier that night.

Hugo had been loved by Rose. Scorpius had loved Rose. Without Rose to love Hugo and Scorpius without Rose to love, he was made to see they were both missing half of themselves and were in need of someone.

But, even though they might be exactly what the other needed, neither Scorpius or Hugo was willing to grab onto the other and save himself. So, it seemed, they were both destined to drown in their own aloneness and their preferred bottle of booze.

Taking the last swig of chardonnay, Scorpius darkly decided that was fine by him.

-v-v-v-v-v-

Visiting his family's apothecary to pick up a couple Pepperup potions a couple days later to fight the cold he'd felt beginning in the back of his throat, Scorpius was surprised by who he bumped into upon exiting the shop.

"Oh, hullo, Hugo," he murmured, blinking up at the gaunt looking man.

Staring down at him with dull eyes, the younger doesn't say anything for a long moment. Beginning to fidget under the stare, Scorpius cranes his neck and started, "Well, I have to get going. I promised to meet a friend - Gunther, you remember him from school? At the Leaky Cauldron-"

"Are you going to the sentencing?" Hugo broke in.

Giving Hugo an incredulous look, Scorpius said, "What?"

"The sentencing. For Tucker Flint."

"No, I'm not," he answered. "Why should I? What's it going to do, Hugo? I _know_ what's going to happen, I don't need to see it happen. I just… I just want to forget it. I don't want to remember that part, I just want to remember Rose for everything else. I'm not interested in going to that bastard's sentencing and causing myself a panic attack at knowing his ugly mug was the last thing my wife saw before she was killed."

The younger man's face twisted cruelly. "I can't _believe_ you. You're not going because of _your_ issues? What about Rose! What about her? Tell me, you bloody Death-Eater spawn, do you think not seeing justice done will help anyone? If you _really_ loved Rose, you'd _go_!" Hugo finished in a loud roar.

Scorpius snapped.

All he saw was the twisted curl of Hugo's smug mouth and the damnation in his beady blue eyes. Scorpius hated it. He _hated_ Hugo. Without another thought, he punched Rose's brother in the face.

Hugo fell backward, hand covering his nose as it bled.

Shaking, Scorpius turned heel, utterly terrified by what he had done. Disapparating, he made it into his home's bathroom just in time to wretch into the toilet.

This wasn't _him_. Scorpius didn't use his fists, he didn't _hurt_ people like that! He didn't - he wasn't -

Scrunching himself up against the tub, he buried his face in his hands and cried for what had to be at least an hour if not longer. He reached under his shirt and brought out Rose's old locket with the resized picture he'd stolen from Hugo just days before. Staring at the pretty, young Rose and little Hugo, Scorpius held back another sob.

Merlin, Rose would be pissed. If there was one thing she'd hated more than anything, it was anyone saying anything bad about her brother or hurting him. Scorpius could recall at how at their wedding reception, Hugo hadn't come. He'd told Rose very pointedly that her brother was the biggest arse he knew and that Hugo shouldn't be punishing Rose for marrying Scorpius.

Rose had for the first, and only time ever, slapped him. It hadn't mattered to her that all their family and friends were there, what had mattered was he'd insulted her little brother.

This lad in the picture Scorpius held.

The little boy Rose could recall so vividly without a photo. The one she'd spent so much of her life with, her first best mate.

Letting his head fall back and hit the wall, Scorpius moaned, "Rose, tell me what to do…"

And, unbidden, Scorpius found himself nodding off.

(In his dreams there were entrapping blue eyes staring at him and a gentle hand caressing his face as a voice, that sounded faintly like his Rose's, whispered, " _Don't give up…_ ")

-v-v-v-v-v-

The sound of his wards going off snapped Scorpius into wakefulness. Sitting up, he pushed off the couch and went to the front door. Peeking through the peephole, Scorpius frowned. Who lay on the other side was the last person he'd ever expected.

It was Hugo.

The door shook with the vibration of a fist pounding on it. "Open up!" the younger shouted, "Or I'll make it blow up!"

Scorpius sighed. The dunderhead out there was going to blow _himself_ up if he tried that with the wards Harry had put on the door for them… Thinning his lips into little more than a line, Scorpius threw the door open. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Blinking bleary, drunk-hazed eyes at him, Hugo pouted. "I just wanna visit, why's that bad?"

"It's not in essence, but…"

"But _what_?" Hugo grumpily demanded as he sat down on Scorpius's couch. Thumbing the blanket Scorpius had been beneath only a couple minutes before, he asked, "You sleepin' on the couch?"

"Hugo."

The younger began to glower in such a way that all Scorpius could do to stop himself from gasping for breath at the familiarity was to yank at his hair as he ran a hand through it to sooth himself. "Tell me, why are you here?" he asked again.

"Did ya ever wonder why Rose was home when that bastard killed her? She wasn't when ya left, right?" Hugo questioned.

Scorpius frowned. "No, but–"

"But, nothin'! She'd been at my place all mornin'…" Hugo trailed off, dropping his face into his hands. "I doubt _you_ know this, but it'd been my birthday. Rose had come by, listened to me bitch and moan at her while she made me breakfast and gave me my gift. Then, Rose said she wanted to take me out to dinner too."

Scorpius perked up at the word. "Dinner? Rose had been talking about going out that night to eat."

Wiping at his face roughly, Hugo nodded. "Yeah, she said you'd be there. I told her to get out an' not come back." Then, in the dim room, Hugo's very blue eyes met Scorpius's storm cloud gray. "That's the last thing I said to Rose, I told her _not to come back_."

"Hugo–"

The younger man spoke right over him as he said, "And guess what? I got my wish. Rose is never _ever_ comin' back." Twisting his shirt with his nervous hands, Hugo asked, "Do ya blame me, now? Do ya, Scorpius?"

Scorpius didn't know. After all, so many things in life happened due to pure chance, but _this_. Was there a chance it could be Hugo's fault? He almost wanted it to be - just so Scorpius could stop blaming himself. But, he knew that wasn't fair. If anything, they were either both at fault for what happened or neither of them were.

"Let's put you to bed," he told Hugo instead. Helping the sniffling man off the sofa, Scorpius lead him into his and Rose's bedroom and pulled back the blankets. "You're not sleeping nude, here, I want you to know."

Only nodding in response, Hugo climbed in.

Tucking the blankets around the younger man, Scorpius sighed. "We can talk in the morning, okay? I'm not anywhere awake enough to deal with all of this."

"G'night, then," Hugo replied as he stared up at Scorpius.

Hesitating to leave, Scorpius inquired, "…You do plan to sleep, right?"

"What else am I goin' to do for the next six hours?" Hugo grunted.

Shaking his head, he didn't say anything as he left his and Rose's room and headed back to the couch. Laying back down, Scorpius sighed audibly as he tossed an arm over his eyes. Six hours. He had six hours to think of an answer to give Hugo.

As he slept, he dreamt of tears, worried blue eyes and heard the crying of a child somewhere in the distance.

Upon waking, though, Scorpius could not find Hugo anywhere in his and Rose's home. The man was gone. Scorpius wanted to be relieved, but the cries of the child almost haunted him more than the eyes that reminded him so much of his beacon of light.

He needed to find Hugo.

But did Scorpius _want_ to?

(He didn't).

-v-v-v-v-v-

The rest of the week went by easily. Well, as easily as it could after a revelation like the one Hugo gave. What that came to mean, was, Scorpius called out of work for the next couple days begging sicker than he had been and went to visit his mother to apologize.

"I was just mad when I said those things to you, you know that, right?"

Brown eyes shimmering, Astoria had nodded as she beckoned her son close for a tight embrace. "Of course I do, dear," she whispered. "I always know when you mean something and when you don't."

He pulled away from her then, curious. "How?" Scorpius questioned.

"I know you," Astoria answered with a smile.

Comforted by this, Scorpius went home feeling much better than he had in days and pondered what his mother had said to him carefully. If she'd known he hadn't meant it simply because she knew him, surely Rose would have known the same about Hugo?

It made sense, he thought.

Sipping at a glass of wine, Scorpius decided he was too tired to write Hugo that night and told himself he'd let the younger man in on his little insight in the morning.

He was sure Hugo could do with the comfort - especially after what Scorpius had done to him by not giving him an answer. The warmth from the fire getting to him as his head started to bob, he was about to fall into the arms of sleep when a hooting came from the room adjacent. Snapped back into the world of wakefulness, the man started to curse.

Sleep was hard to fall into without Rose beside him and he _hated_ being woken from it just as he was on the cusp of it. It was annoying and could trigger a bout of insomnia he wouldn't be able to kick for several days after. Stalking into the kitchen, he looked at the unfamiliar brown and gray owl and growled, "This better be important!"

Taking the torn piece of parchment from the creature's beak, Scorpius unfolded it.

 _I'm sorry, Rose._

Staring at the message for a long moment, Scorpius wondered. Who was this from? Could it be Hugo? Hurrying out of the room and to the desk in the back of the living room where his wife did all her work at home, Scorpius sifted through papers until he found a letter signed by Hugo. Comparing the handwriting, he began to shake.

This wasn't good, he realized. _Not at all_. A message like this… Merlin, Scorpius needed to get out of here.

Hugo's flat in his mind's eye, he apparated away.

Materializing by Hugo's hearth, Scorpius's gaze darted around the once again messy flat only to spy Hugo Leaning out his window. Jumping into action, Scorpius wasted no time in running over to yank the taller man back. Together, they tumbled to the floor as Hugo struggled to get away.

"What the bloody Hell!?" he screamed.

Clinging tightly, Scorpius shouted, "Rose knew you didn't mean it!"

Stilling, Hugo shifted in such a way that he felt it was okay to let him go. Sitting up, the younger met Scorpius's gaze. "What do you mean Rose knew I didn't mean it?"

"She knew you, Hugo. Rose knew when you meant something and when you didn't."

Lip trembling, Hugo shook his head. "That can't be, if she knew I didn't mean it, she wouldn't have _left_."

Scorpius shook his head. "She just knew you were upset, she was probably giving you time to cool off before she came back to make you come to dinner. You knew Rose, did she ever give up that easy?"

"I – I don't…"

Reaching forward, Scorpius gingerly wrapped his arms around his brother-in-law and whispered, "That's the truth, Hugo. She knew you didn't mean what you said and it wasn't your fault she got killed either, okay?

Tears dripping from his chin, Hugo whispered, "I'm still sorry."

"That's fine, if it makes you feel better, I'm sorry too. I guess we'll always both feel like we could have done something more, but since it's all done, why don't we leave where it belongs? In the past," Scorpius offered to Hugo.

"But, that'd be like leaving Rose behind too," the younger man muttered.

Pulling away, Scorpius waited for Hugo's stare to meet his. "Rose wouldn't want us beating ourselves up for eternity and then some. So, in her memory, why don't we take the step forward she always wanted and try and get to know each other civilly?"

After a tense moment of silence, Hugo stuck out his hand.

"For Rose," he agreed.

"For Rose," Scorpius echoed as he shook Hugo's hand.

They would have a long road ahead of them, but Scorpius knew someday they'd be everything Rose had always dreamed of.

-v-v-v-v-v-

 _Legs tangled beneath their bedsheets, Scorpius opened his eyes when he felt his wife's hands carding through his hair. "Happy Sunday, love," he greeted._

 _A happy grin on her sleep-softened countenance, Rose leaned in for a kiss. "Morning to you too, Scor."_

 _"I love our Sundays, don't you?" he asked as he came to wrap his arms around his wife._

 _Sighing happily into his neck, Rose lay there for a few moments, not saying anything. Scorpius didn't mind, it was nice just to soak in the warmth of Rose and take in the faint chirping of the birds outside their window. Sundays were the only days they ever got to be so lazy._

 _Eventually, Rose wriggled away a little so Scorpius had to meet her gaze. "I do love our Sundays," she agreed. "But won't it be wonderful when we have a couple of little ones bounding in at the crack of dawn demanding we get up?"_

 _Crinkling his nose, Scorpius asked, "Did you do that to your parents?"_

 _"Yes, me and Hugo. It was fun," she giggled as Scorpius began to kiss her jaw line. "Oh, stop that! I haven't told you the best part, yet!"_

 _Humoring his wife, Scorpius let up and propped himself on his arm as he questioned, "And what's that?"_

 _Her beautiful gaze taking on a dreamy quality, Rose smiled. "After the children wake us up, we'll all stay here and cuddle for a bit before going to the kitchen. I'll make blueberry waffles just like my dad used to and you'll tell the children to stop running around the kitchen like a pair of loons. That's when - best of all -_ Hugo _will step through the Floo with a grin and Chocolate Frogs for our little Regulus and Sandra. Why Chocolate Frogs? That's because our children will adore them just like you do and then Hugo'll sit down and eat with us, laughing like he used to during our Sunday breakfasts with our parents..."_

 _Kissing her soundly, Scorpius almost could imagine it - well, not the Hugo part, but the rest was easy enough. "That's a beautiful dream, love. Now, why don't we practice making our little Regulus and Sandra?"_

 _Wrapping her arms around his neck, Rose gave a breathy laugh as she agreed, "Let's."_

* * *

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